Shiver
by Mr Super Czar
Summary: P/O - "Because tonight, they aren’t Mr. Bishop and Agent Dunham. They are Liv and Pete and they need something more than corpses and justice to get them through till morning. Tonight they are together and that is all they need."
1. Warehouse Hero

A/N - inspired while listening the Shiver by Maximo Park. This is a little dark, which seems to be my feeling as of late. Dont worry I'm still working on Haemoglobin, I jsut got this stuck in my head. I'm trying to make Haemoglobin as good as I can for all the wonderful people who have reviewed so that the wait will be worth it. Okay then, enjoy.

* * *

_**Shiver**_

_**-**_

"_Cause I shiver,  
I just break up,  
When I'm near you."_

_- Maximo Park, __**Shiver**_

_-_

It smelt like paint thinner and antiseptic. It burnt at his nostrils, scorching his mouth and causing bile to build up in his throat. His chest constricted suddenly as his brain created and spat out images of her strapped down somewhere in this godforsaken edifice with only the smell to keep her company. He swallowed thickly as he considered what he should say and what he should do; all of the possible scenarios filled his mind, good and bad. Privately he thanked whatever God there was that Charlie had bullied him into coming with him because he knew there would have been no way he could have pulled this off alone. The place he was in was derelict and dusty, tarpaulin sheets hung from the scaffolding that held up one side of the building; damp and mould had accumulated in the corners of the large cement floor, and scraps of unused metal lay scattered at odd angles. The briefcase in his hand felt startlingly heavy, like he was holding a mattress instead of a leather case filled with a million dollars.

Not for the first time, Peter wondered how he had become so attached to the blonde agent in such a short period of time. A year ago he had been securing deals with Iraqi oil lords on piping lines; and now he was gearing up to pay off a flesh peddler hired by a mob boss, much to the conflicted Charlie's disbelief. He checked his watch, ignoring how tight his tie was beginning to feel. They were late. That did not exactly exude 'sunshine-and-daisies' to him.

"Mr. King, you came." It was a statement and the tone with which it was uttered lifted at the end, making it seem like a question. Clearly the man in a similar suit, only Peter's was all black, who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere had not cottoned on to Peter's real identity. Peter tilted his head in the mans direction in a sign of greeting and lifted the briefcase a fraction before letting his arm go limp once more.

"Of course. My people are very… invested in acquiring this piece of the collection," Peter said in a haunting voice, making Charlie – who stood twenty yards from him, concealed by a solid blue piece of tarpaulin – wonder if he hadn't done this before. The man smirked crookedly and clicked his fingers. Two very large and very intimidating men entered behind the 'Speaker', as he had been dubbed by the media, with a familiar blonde in between them; the bigger one, Beefy as Peter nicknamed him in his head, had one meaty fist on her shoulder while the other one on the opposite side, Tattoos, clasped her torn and bloodied shirt with two hands. They walked until they were level with the Speaker and then stopped abruptly, causing her to stumble a little. Her eyes widened when they landed on Peter but she squashed it quickly and did not make any other indication that she knew who he was.

"I see. Well, would you like to inspect the merchandise or will face value be enough?" Peter nearly flinched at the sound of this man calling _his _Olivia 'merchandise' but stopped himself just in time. He had to keep it together: the aim was to get Olivia back in one piece and those bastards in a six by four prison cell. He smirked coldly and cocked his head, beckoning with two fingers. The Speaker nodded and jerked his head at the two henchmen. Beefy and Tattoos dragged Olivia to stand in front of Peter who was fighting with himself to not draw the gun tucked in the waistband of his suit pants. She looked at him then, meeting his eyes while he pretended to look her up and down. Her face was contorted in a look of pure contempt but her eyes filled with relief at the sight of him.

Setting the briefcase down behind him he raised a hand and ran it down her forearm, stopping to grab her wrist as lightly as he dared. He tugged ever so slightly so that she was out of the henchmen's grip and inspected her thoroughly for bruises, cuts and any other sign of damage, all the while making it appear that he was checking for something completely different to his companions. He raised a hand to her chin and yanked it to the left, looking closely at the large yellowing bruise that was setting in across her once flawless cheek. He clenched his jaw so hard he heard his teeth grind. The Speaker, as well as Tattoos and Beefy, picked up on the sudden shift. Peter noticed and carefully covered his tracks.

"I was told that she would be in _pristine_ condition. What exactly do you think my… client can do with her?" He did not break the stare with the other man, focusing all his energy into not going Neanderthal and throwing her over his shoulder and marching out of there right then. The Speaker looked surprised and then suddenly apologetic. Clearly he was eager to get rid of her; Peter silently chuckled to himself – she had been causing obvious trouble for him. If he was honest with himself, he felt incredibly proud that she had not given in to the Speaker.

"We had some difficulties. And bruises can heal," he spoke fast, his features looking desperate. Peter's reply was quick and razor sharp, his voice dangerous and filled with meaning.

"Quickly?" The word caused all of those present, with the exception of Peter and Olivia, to flinch. The Speaker smiled tightly and began to look reproachful.

"Perhaps we can work out a deal. How about you take the girl and I'll knock off ten percent?" Bile and acid rose in his throat once more as he began to compare buying Olivia from this man to buying a vacuum. Beating back the rage that bubbled under his skin, Peter hummed under his breath as if he was considering the offer the Speaker had just made. He looked Olivia over once more, taking in every tiny detail, and nodded.

"Very well. But if this ever happens again, you can find yourself a new line of work. I hear KFC are hiring." Peter clicked his fingers and Charlie took that as his cue. The Speaker raised his eyebrows at the sudden presence of this seeming random man out of nowhere but Peter remained unfazed. "What? You can have mysterious click obeying henchmen and I can't? Little double standard of you, don't you think?" He said as he handed over the briefcase, considerable lighter than it was a moment ago. The other man chuckled lightly after nodding and gesturing to the bodyguards. At this point Charlie grabbed Olivia's arm roughly and held her still next to Peter, both waiting until the other shady characters had left. Once Peter heard the click of the back doors being shut, he dropped the extra cash in his hand and swiftly scooped her up in his arms.

She clung to his clothes, to his hair, to any solid part of him that she could. His arm curled around her knees and he lifted her 'bride-style' in order to carry her easily through the steel double doors. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she leaned her head in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply in order to smell the scent of his cologne. He planted a light kiss on her forehead, mindful of her bruises and a lengthy cut. Charlie opened the doors for him and they both half-ran, half-jogged towards the armored BMW; Peter climbed in the back with Olivia still wrapped around him while Charlie fired up the car and sped out of the deserted parking lot. Peter breathed as deeply as he could, desperate to rid his mouth and nose of the stench of the warehouse.


	2. Hospital Husband

A/N - while this was intended to be a one shot, popular demand (always wanted to say that lol) I have written a second chapter. Okay then, enjoy. Possibly will add a third chapter on to it but this will NOT be a four shot. Sorry people. If I start this as another story Haemoglobin will never be finished.

* * *

_**Shiver**_

_**-**_

"_We talk and talk  
Around it all,  
How'd we end up here?"  
- Maximo Park, __**Shiver**_

_**-**_

The hospital was crowded and unfriendly. Olivia, having woken up just before they arrived at the federal building to drop Charlie off, had demanded to sit in the front seat and when they got to the hospital she insisted that she was fine and didn't need a check-up. The look in her eyes and his cursory glance over her battered body said otherwise and Peter was inclined to listen. So there they were, waiting for a nurse or a doctor to come over and show them to an examination room, with her sitting stoically still in an uncomfortable chair with his arm draped across the back of it. She was leaning, imperceptibly so, into his arm as she twisted her hands around one another, trying to ignore the odd looks people were giving them.

The bruises had began to throb painfully under her inflamed skin and she tried not to alert Peter to the crushing pain in her ribs – she suspected that at least three of them were broken or at least fractured. She noticed that a particularly formidable nurse was eyeing Peter in an odd sort of fashion and watched the woman move until it occurred to Olivia that this nurse probably thought Peter was an abusive boyfriend or husband. If only the nurse could have seen the man in question an hour ago, sweeping her into his arms like a night in shining FBI standard issue body armour. Although, she mused, he was wearing a suit over it. As exhaustion finally swept fully over her she leaned completely onto his shoulder, her head partly on his chest at a surprisingly comfortable angle, and in doing so she knocked his arm so that it curled around her own shoulders. She closed her eyes as heat rocketed through her torso and arms as she absorbed it from his body.

"Olivia Dunham?" A voice asked from somewhere in the vicinity of where the severe nurse had been. She sighed, not wanting to open her eyes, but was eventually forced to as Peter shook her ever so lightly. She made no effort to move from the chair or her position on his shoulder, so he turned oddly and lifted her much like he had in the warehouse and carried her through to the room the nurse indicated. Now, as he laid her down on the hard little bed, it was his turn not to move from _her_ side. A female doctor and two nurses, both men looking rather dishevelled, came into the room then as Peter sat down in a chair in the far corner of the small room. The doctor gave him an odd look.

"I'm sorry, sir, but this room is for patients only. Unless of course you are _family_ and the patient says you can stay," the doctor said in a tone that clearly suggested she didn't want him anywhere near her patient, but Olivia piped up form the bed.

"He can stay," she said in a quiet voice that broke Peter's heart. The doctor nodded grimly at the two male nurses, who left abruptly after, and looked back to Peter.

"Are you family?" It wasn't a question, more of an accusation, but Peter wasn't about to back down now. He nodded, his eyes flickering towards Olivia and silently praying she wouldn't kill him for what he was about to say.

"I'm her… husband," he tried to say with absolute certainty in case he tipped the doctor off but the hesitation seemed to have slipped her by. Thanking the Gods that she had not thrown his sorry ass out of the damn room, Peter sat back with smile. At the sudden change in the doctor's features Peter immediately stopped smiling. The woman looked ready to murder, and probably would have had it not been for the witnesses, and it was then that Peter realised what Olivia had picked up on earlier with the nurse giving him stink eye. They all thought _he _had done this to her.

"Fine. Okay then, _Mrs. Dunham_," she ground the name out through her clenched teeth, "I need you to sit up." Olivia did and the doctor began to examine the various cuts and bruises that dominated her arms. The white blouse that Olivia had been wearing was now torn at the sleeve slightly and had blood speckled down the front. The shirt was not dirty per se; it looked merely like it had been worn for longer than three days, and her slacks were still the same black that they had been the last time Peter had seen her.

Casting a vicious glance in Peter's direction, she removed the ripped article of clothing, revealing her mess of a torso. Her entire stomach, back, upper arms and chest was covered, inch-by-inch, in black and purple and yellow and green ugly splotches. They decorated a sickly pattern of pain up and down her body and both Peter and the doctor's fists clenched with anger. He looked away, fighting back the bile, as Olivia winced at the sudden rush of cold air that attacked her battered body. Thankfully, though Peter played it fast and loose with the word, there were no cuts that marred her macabre technicoloured skin. The doctor worked quickly and tried to make the exam as painless as possible for Olivia.

The rest of the examination was much of the same. X-rays were taken to ensure that no bones were broken – at Peter's insistence, though he was sure they all thought he was covering his tracks – which they weren't, only some bone bruising. The doctor muttered something about coming right back and left them alone for the moment. Olivia, who now wore hospital scrubs courtesy of one of the interns who had accompanied the doctor during the x-rays, turned her head tiredly in Peter's direction. They were in a different room now, this one being a little a larger than the last one, with a window and two chairs. A long comfortable bed was also in this room, which is where Olivia lay.

"Hey…" she said softly. He moved his chair closer to the bed so that the wood of it was pressed tightly against the metal of the gurney. She placed a palm on his cheek and slowly stroked his unshaven cheek with her thumb. He placed a chaste kiss on the inside of her wrist as she did so.

"You had me so… worried," he said gently, his voice nearly breaking in the middle of the sentence. She looked away quickly and then back at him just as suddenly.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. He shook his head vigorously.

"No. I am. I should have trusted you. I should have found you sooner. I should have…" he stopped his rant as the doctor entered, this time with two police officers behind her. She motioned to Peter, ignoring the fairly intimate position he was in.

"That's him." The woman said in a cold, professional tone that had a hint of smugness about it. Peter frowned, as did Olivia who was now clutching his burgundy silk shirt with all her might. The beefier looking officer, dark-skinned and austere looking, beckoned to Peter and said gruffly, "Can you come with us, sir?" Peter nodded but when he tried to get up he found that Olivia's small hand, however injured, was holding on for dear life. She yelled 'NO!' at the top of her voice when he tried to pry her hand off his shirt to no avail. Deciding that it was not worth the fight, he sat back down; he wrapped her hand in his and mouthed the word 'later' to the two officers. They nodded and retreated back outside, both sending glares at the puzzled looking doctor. Clearly they thought she had wasted their time by calling them.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Dunham, but would you mind telling me how exactly this happened?" She eventually asked. Peter's head had begun to pound at some point during the x-raying but he turned to the doctor nonetheless.

"That's… classified information. Sorry." He said with an air of finality that hinted at the doctor to drop it. She did not.

"Classified? What on earth do you mean classified?"

"I mean that, as part of the FBI, I'm not at liberty to discuss ongoing investigations with civilians such as yourself." Peter smirked to himself. He sounded exactly like Olivia when she was interrogating a suspect or just generally being her FBI self. If she were conscious – having drifted off after the officer's left, reassured that Peter was here - she would have been proud. The doctor nodded and excused herself then, obviously embarrassed. Peter guessed that she was probably going to shoo away the two policemen, and, deciding he didn't care, turned back to stare at the sleeping blonde.

She had made it clear to him a while ago after he asked her out to dinner that they were professionals, colleagues, and that they must remain that way in order for them to effectively do their jobs. Peter had scoffed at her and said that he had asked her out because he didn't want to eat alone, not because it was a date. She had laughed then, her mind at ease, while he faked a grin and pretended that it wasn't torturous to know that she didn't feel the same way.

_Yes_, he thought, _I have become way too attached to her. Far too attached._ But as he assessed his options and the events of the past year, he found that he wouldn't trade any moment of it for the entire world; besides he got to spend every moment of it with her. And that, to him, was completely worth being 'just friends'.

* * *

Thank you to:

**Fantasy Cat: **Thank you very much.

**JT4Life: **Thank you for favoring the story, it means alot. I had doubts about the story initially but the fact that you liked it enough to put it i your favourites is very humbling.

**Ocein: **Funny you should mention that, yes** Taken **did have a little to do with this but mainly it was the song Shiver by Maximo Park. And as for all the alerting, favoring and what not, I'm being mushy and also thanking you from the bottom of this little heart of mine :).

**wjobsessed**: Thank you very much. Okay, yeh sorry, this is pretty much what happens after. Yeah, see they don't kiss, it's more a friendship kind of story. I hate that too but that's unfortunately the way it goes.

**Jasper303: **Thank you, I love Dark!Peter and Protective!Peter. So much better than antsy Peter who wants to run every time something bad happens. Glad you liked it.


	3. For Tonight You're Only Here To Know

A/n - This chapter is for wjobsessed, who I felt bad about cheating of a kiss. This chapter could probably easily be **rated M****. **So don't let the kids read it. Thanks to every one who has reviewed, this will be the last installment of 'Shiver'.

* * *

_**Shiver**_

_**-**_

"_If I never saw you again,  
could I keep all this inside?"_

_- Maximo Park, __**Shiver**_

_-_

It was late and while he knew that he shouldn't be here, he couldn't quite bring himself to leave. He also couldn't pluck up the courage to actually knock on her door so, between the indecision, that left with him standing dumbly on her front porch holding a bottle of tequila and staggering slightly. He took another deep breath and considered turning back around and going back to the hotel. He unscrewed the cap on the bottle of amber liquid he held and took a lengthy sip just as the door swung open, revealing a very annoyed looking Olivia Dunham.

The past three weeks had been kind to her. The garish bruise that had marred her otherwise perfect skin had almost completely disappeared; her stitches that had held together a sizable cut on her forehead had been removed two days ago in order to avoid serious scarring; her ribs had nearly healed entirely and the physical therapy she had been undergoing for her leg after being shot was coming along nicely. She was almost wholly her once more. Only she wasn't and Peter hated that he knew the difference. Privately, though he would never say so, he hated that she knew the difference too. She was looking at him now in that wonderfully infuriated way that she used to when he said something snappish to Walter or called her 'sweetheart' and it warmed his insides from his shoulders to his toes, though for the life of him he didn't know why.

"Look, as much as I just _love _having drunk guys showing up at my door at…" she checked her watch, "11:37 at night, I really doubt my neighbors do. So, are you in," she opened the door a little more, "Or are you out?" Peter considered his options and replied by stepping through her door boldly. He heard her exhale softly, perhaps in relief or, and this seemed more likely, further annoyance as she probably expected him to apologize for bothering her and then leave. As he stepped into the main living room, the first things that greeted him were the various manila files and blue pens scattered around the floor. An empty scotch bottle lay toppled on one side on the coffee table, a glass tumbler next to it. Her glasses were perched in the couch armchair before she retrieved them and slipped them into a velvet glasses case.

"What do you want, Peter?" She sounded tired as she spoke and he instantly felt guilty, despite knowing now that she was doing anything but sleep. It was then he noticed that nearly all the lights in the house were on. It was odd to say the least especially when he thought back to the twenty minute long speech she had once given him over the importance of climate change. A speech that had made him chuckle due to who happened to be giving it.

"What, do you suddenly hate the ice caps or something?" He asked sarcastically, forcing a smile onto his face that they both knew was faked. His attempt to break the ice fell flat but she smirked at him nonetheless.

"I'd ask if you want a drink but I see you went all BYOB on me," her joke went over a little better than his, causing him to smile for the first time in weeks. He plopped himself down on the couch unceremoniously and shut the case files within his reach, pushing them away afterward. He slapped a hand on the cushion next to him and, after looking skeptical, Olivia followed his example. She leaned over, ignoring the feeling of his shirt against her skin, and grabbed the bottle in his hand. Taking a swig of it straight, her eyes met his and they began a silent staring contest. She knew what he was doing of course. He was testing her, seeing if she was still firing on all cylinders, checking to see if she was ready to come back to work in two days time. She said nothing and he said nothing and they both just sat in silence, alternating the bottle between the two until there was nothing left to drown their stillness in.

-

Neither of them spoke. Neither of them really moved at all. All either of them knew was that she was suddenly in his lap and his hands were inching up her tank top. They had barely touched, the slightest of grazes of the hands, before he had simply silently pulled her to him. They hadn't kissed, they weren't shaking and they weren't sweating. Neither completely understood what they were doing. They had drunk too much, the tequila and a couple glasses of wine dulling their senses, but to them nothing had ever been clearer. They both had known exactly the right moves, the right way to touch, the right rhythm to breathe. Her arms wound around his shoulders, her hands stopping at the nape of his neck, while he removed her shirt. Still neither of them said anything.

His checkered shirt soon followed hers but somehow it seemed infinitely slow. It wasn't rushed but it wasn't sweet either. It wasn't the beginning of something intense and fiery, just like both of them had imagined it being, it was more like an affirmation of their friendship. Like they were further solidifying their unwavering support for each other. He was mainly in it because he needed to _feel_ her. Truly feel her and know that she was there and alive and not going anywhere. She just wanted to feel _something._ Being numb was a slippery slope to go down. They kissed then, slow and full of meaning, with both of them trying desperately to put across the need they had for the other into that one kiss. They both knew it would be the only one of the night. An unspoken rule that was cemented with the separation of lips.

His belt hit the floor with a resonating thud. Still silent, but both breathing heavily, his hands inched the flimsy skirt up her thighs as she unbuttoned his corduroys. She smiled at him, despite the seriousness of the situation, and he smiled back; the matching grins were empty and failed to reach either sets of eyes, but it seemed to relax the tension. He lifted slightly, his pants slipping further down his legs until they were off entirely. Their eyes never left each other as he decided that the couch was not the place he wanted this to happen. And so, both almost totally naked with the exception of their underwear, he carried her in the direction of her bedroom, her legs still firmly wrapped around his waist.

-

The clock blinked 03:12 in bright devil red digits. It was the only source of light in the room if one didn't count the moonlight that streamed in through the windows. It filtered in through the half open blinds, casting an eerie glow over her face and bared shoulder. She was propped up on one elbow, her head resting lightly against the exposed palm of her closed fist. He lay on his back, his right hand resting on his stomach just above where the delicate Egyptian cotton sheets stopped and is left hand tracing lazy patterns on her exposed hip where the sheets had slipped. He wasn't looking at her but she absorbed and committed to memory every detail of him and every movement he made. She broke the seemingly never-ending silence they had encased themselves in for the better part of four hours with a question.

"Before, at the warehouse, you gave the Speaker a helluva lot of money. How did you get it so fast?" This is the first time either of them has mentioned the incident at the warehouse or how he had acquired that much money in such a short amount of time. He doesn't say anything; instead he stops his ministrations and goes still.

"Let's just say Nina owes me," his tone tells her to drop it and he speaks with such finality that she feels compelled to leave it alone. Her instincts as an FBI agent are screaming at her to push him into telling her what he means, but tonight Agent Dunham has no leeway and no influence. Tonight, she is only Liv and Liv had no room for interrogations. She chooses, instead of pushing the matter, to place chaste kiss on his shoulder, her eyes never leaving his still features, moving slowly down his torso.

Because tonight, they aren't Mr. Bishop and Agent Dunham. They are Liv and Pete and they need something more than corpses and justice to get them through till morning. Tonight they are together and that is all they need.

That is all they want.


End file.
